Robert smirked, “I told him Earl.” Luke tightened his hand, a bolt of adrenaline coming from the blue.
Shifting around uncomfortably in his chair, Earl sent his two men over to their seats, “I told Robbie he could come and chill with us while you took your sweet time.”
I wonder why he refused, “Apologies,” he started. “Club business, you know how it can be.” Truth be told, Earl was on one of the lowest rungs of the proverbial crime ladder, he didn’t know the first thing about running something of real substance. Of course, even cockroaches can find a way to make your life miserable.
Earl nodded, “Of course, now about the matter of payment – y’all got the goods?”
Luke’s eyes briefly between the two men, they were packing – but then again, so was he. “If you’ve got the cash,” Luke offered, opening the black bag and revealing a plastic baggie of sixty white pills. “There’s six and zero,” Luke tossed the bag at the man and watched as he sloppily caught it in his lap.
Robert licked his wormy lips and revealed his considerably larger bag. “Hundred and twenty with your name on it,” the man gestured with the bag. “Twenty a pop,” he added it so casually, like the statement was nothing more than him recalling what he’d ordered for food last night.
Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
The room became small. Frighteningly so.
A tight knot formed inside of Luke’s stomach as electricity danced through the air.
Luke stared with a menace at the Vice President. You’re fucking insane. There’s no way in seven hells that’s ever going to fly.
Earl just laughed, “Good one,” he remarked, getting up from his chair and heading towards the door in the back of the room. When the man returned he tossed a stack of bills that were wound together and wrapped in a plastic grocery bag towards ‘Robbie’.
Robert picked it up and removed it from the plastic, giving it a quick examination. Luke felt an invisible noose tightening around his neck, he looked over to the two armed men and he suddenly felt very aware of the piece hidden within his jacket. The Vice President nodded, “So you just want a hundred this time?” He asked curiously.
There was no laughter this time. The words hung still in the air
Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
Looking to the man on his right and then back to Robert, Earl shook his head. “You’re … being serious?”
Luke tried to intervene, “He’s kidding. It’s still the same rate, nothing has changed.”
Robert chuckled to himself, “No, no it’s not,” he assured. “We’ve been taking all the risk with getting these,” he explained, “we take the time out of our busy lives, eight times a month, to get you what you need. It’s time for you to do right by us.”
Shady Earl’s lips became tightly pressed together as he leaned forward ever so slightly. “You’re really startin’ to piss me off Robbie – cut the crap.”
“We can take our business elsewhere,” Robert shrugged. Jesus, this isn’t good.
“You come in my home, you make me wait for you to get your shit and you tell me all of a sudden that my money? That my money ain’t good enough?” Earl’s veins were showing now.
Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
As a wave of unease swept across the room, the chairs of which the two nameless men sat, creaked.
Luke’s heart tapped quicker and quicker still against the bone of his breast, a glistening of sweat began to take form. Earl’s knuckles went white as milk against the ends of his wooden throne. Realization dawned; it was all a prelude to madness.
In a quickness, Earl picked up the shotgun leaning against his chair – the other two men finding their pistols.
Luke reached for his Glock and time seemed to come to a crawl.
Robert was the first to draw bead, keeping a steady aim on the man to Earl’s left.
Earl brought the shotgun up and held it at the ready against Robert. Heartbeat after heartbeat passed, the gun shook unsteadily in Earl’s grasp – a series of deathly cold shivers courted Luke’s spine; nervous warmth cascading against him. Someone was going to snap - the last thought he had before the silence could be broken, was of those illustrious eyes and the smile that angels coveted.
Yelling and with his face red, Earl’s veins poked out against his head, “Kyle!”
Deafening, the first shot came out as Luke and Robert jumped for cover inside the kitchen. A storm of bullets ensued with Luke firing his gun blindly around the corner, clinging desperately to the kitchen counter. The men inside the study yelled a string of obscenities.
That was when the shotgun blasted in his direction, a wicked sound booming so loud that it could wake the dead – it was as though Satan himself had spat hellfire in Luke’s direction. When he felt the scorching sting against his cheek, he cursed in a rage, retreating further down the kitchen – shaking off the roaches and kicking away debris. They needed to go. Now.
Between the craziness, Robert managed to poke his head out and take a shot at one of the men, leaving a red dot on the man’s ankle, causing him to scream out and curse. Really? Aim for the center of fucking mass you amateur.
Holding a hand to his wound and keeping his gun steady on the door, Luke could hear a series of frantic footfalls above – a dark thought crossed his mind when he saw the perverse joy on Robert’s face.
Whom Luke could only presume was Kyle, a man came fumbling down the stairs in only his black boxers – a pistol in one hand, his other hanging onto the railing. A grunt escaped Luke’s throat as he brought the gun to face the man coming down the stairs, only a couple of frantic heartbeats passing before he steadied his breathing and squeezed the trigger twice..
As another blast of shotgun came screaming into the kitchen, causing a series of plates to explode – Kyle howled as he took the last steps with his face, redecorating all the way down.
Sucking in a deep breath, a nasty surge of adrenaline pumped like sludgy venom through Luke’s veins. He got to his feet and gripped the handle of his Glock so hard that his knuckles turned skull white, he could feel it shake in his hands – his whole body quivering. Luke had killed before, he wasn’t proud of it but he’d be the first to admit it. Sometimes, the nerves get to everyone. Reaching into his jacket he hastily produced a smoke and put it to his lips, finding his lighter and turning the end of the stick cherry. He sucked in a long drag and exhaled a cloud of smoke.
Just as Luke was starting to steady himself, he stepped back as more hellfire pushed its way through – shards of wood and glass getting kicked up into his face. He waited then, patiently, pressing his back against the wall, counting and listening for his cue. There was a noise then, the sound of something heavy clattering against the ground – even though the one on Robert’s side still had a bead on them, Luke knew the goon on his end had to reload.
Smoke rising from the end of his cigarette, Luke readied himself – visualizing where his mark was standing, popped out from the corner and fired off a single round in to the man’s head before narrowly dodging two bullets; they grazed his shoulder, cutting through his jacket.
Earl called out the dead man’s name – not that it mattered to Luke.
Robert mouthed ‘nice one’ in an exaggerated manner.
Another couple brutal seconds passed, a hail of buckshot chipping away at most of Luke’s cover. He cursed aloud and moved deeper into his side of the disgusting kitchen. Luke yelled at the top of his lungs so loud that he knew if he gets out of this alive, his voice will quit on him later. “ROB.”
The Vice looked to Luke with knowing eyes, unleashing a torrent of covering fire.
Luke squeezed off another couple of rounds before running in a dead sprint out of the kitchen, calling out to his idiot-in-arms, “Let’s go!”
Pumping another two rounds, Robert’s gun clicked and he cursed, beads of sweat rolling down the man’s face as he turned on his heel and follow Luke; the two making a mad dash for the front door – passing by the slowly expanding pool o
f red by the stairs. The door flew open and the men ran with Hermes himself at their feet – stumbling out into the freshly curtained blackness of night, the sound of footfalls and screams behind them.
A bullet whizzed by Luke, “Fuck,” he ducked his head as he sprinted towards his steel steed, fumbling over his own movements and crashing into the hard soil head first.
He heard Robert holler something back at Earl, scrambling over to Luke’s side and grabbing him by the shoulders and lifting. “Come on bro, I got you.”
An ache sank deep into his forehead before he brought himself back up to his feet with the Vice’s help. “Thanks,” he said as Robert darted off to his bike and a bullet kicked up a smattering of dirt at Luke’s feet. The chain which held Able’s ring shifted. With his heart thumping away, Luke hopped on his FX and shot his heel at the kickstand, twisting his key and screaming off into the blackness; his last thought being of how dangerous it was to be a part of the Club, how deadly it was to even be associated with a member.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Jasmine
“How’re you feeling?” She asked, driving down Miles avenue, a couple of fat, wet drops hitting the glass screen of her Rav4.
“You can stop asking now,” Augustus barked over the phone, she’d been checking up on him along with Jessica throughout the day – this was the third time that Jasmine had broken her promise to leave him be.
“Last time I swear,” she convinced herself that she meant the words leaving her lips. “It just really scared me,” she confided.
Silence spoke loudly as to how her frentor (friend and mentor) was feeling. “Puh-lease don’t make me say sorry again Hazelnut, because, it, it, it’s just becoming so old hat I could actually just wear it at this point. I seriously could.”
Jasmine laughed before easing into an S turn, approaching Alejandra’s residence. “Come on,” she said, trying to contain her laughter. “This is serious, I’m not going to stop bugging you – now tell me again you’re not gonna use tonight or I’ll come over there myself.” She had insisted that she stay at his place tonight, but his stubbornness was legendary – so she settled for having him call every hour, on the hour.
“I, Augustus Jameson Lark, promise yadda yadda yadda,” he drifted off and a series of fake snores came through the line. “I promise I’m not going to,” he affirmed seriously now, “I’m not going to use tonight or in the morning. That’s it, that’ss it that’ss it that’ss it.”
She smoothly went up to Alejandra’s driveway and parked just outside the garage, a sigh smooth as smoke escaping her. Jasmine felt a finger dig against her heart, “I’d feel a lot more comfortable if you would tell m—“
“No. Don’t make me say it again,” Augustus’ voice was hard now, cold as arctic night..
“Alright,” she surrendered, “just … call me, if you need me, okay?”
A couple of seconds passed as the man seemed to chew on the thought, finally responding, “Okay.”
The two said their goodbyes and Jasmine produced the white binder of CD’s she had previously burned. It was dark out, but Alejandra’s foster parents had a nice place – just as nice and samey as all the other ticky tacky houses, but nice none the less. With a chain of delicate raps against the pristine white front door, she waited patiently for Alejandra’s parents to answer.
***
Peeking her head inside of Alejandra’s door, Jasmine saw the sun burnished girl drawing on her bed – a pair of earbuds attached to her. Jasmine stepped inside, closing the door behind her and smiling when the young girl finally noticed her.
Practically ripping off her headphones, Alejandra called out her name and let the sketch book fall onto her milk white duvet. “You weren’t here last week!” She exclaimed in a pout, throwing her arms around Jasmine’s thin neck.
“I know, I know,” she replied, “I know that I say I’m never too busy,” Jasmine wheedled. “But damn if life doesn’t try it’s hardest,” she bent down ever so slightly, coiling her arms around the lithe young girl; she held onto the end of the white binder. Alejandra was only sixteen but she was a true wildcat, even more than Jasmine was at the girl’s age. Her silky black hair was done into a pony tail.
“You can’t be busy,” she said, “just tell me who the man is in your life already, I’ll clear the misunderstanding,” she cracked her knuckles, making them pop loudly. “You got more music?” She asked. Looking into Alejandra’s dark and stormy eyes reminded Jasmine of her own youth; they were a brown as bark with flecks of blue, like lavish lapis lazuli’s lost in glinting soil.
“There is no man,” Jasmine insisted, rolled her eyes and padded over to the girl’s bed; she threw the binder down and planted her butt on the soft duvet. There wasn’t much left, Jasmine mused, scanning the posters on Alejandra’s wall; The Who, Lacuna Coil, Nightwish and NiN. Perhaps the one and only clue that remained within the confines of the young girl’s ‘prison’ was the beautiful, untouched acoustic tucked away in the corner.
Alejandra clicked her tongue and raised her head defiantly, “Bullshit,” she started walking to Jasmine.
“Watch your tongue,” Jasmine wagged a finger before patting a spot beside her on the bed, leaning over inquisitively, she looked over at what the girl was drawing. She knew that Alejandra would do no such thing as actually taking the time to consider her words, but it was a gut reaction and there was nothing that she could do about that.
The girl shot out a hand trying to stop Jasmine, “Hey!”
Wow, that’s amazing – a warm spark moved through Jasmine, though she didn’t want to admit it, she felt more than just the tender embrace of flattery, she coveted the pure talent.
“It’s not done,” she bleated before cozying up next to Jasmine, a touch of color gracing her smooth cheeks.
Jasmine’s jaw was slack, she then craned her neck so that she could face the girl, “How long have you—“
“Three days,” Alejandra interrupted, the embarrassment thick in her tone. She tucked her chin against her chest, pressing her small little hands against her legs. Jasmine could see the faded bits of red and green along the length of the girl’s fingers. Not good.
“You have such a talent sweetheart,” people would pay good money for portraits even half as good as that.
The corner of Alejandra’s mouth upturned into a shadow of a smile – something she rarely did, it was a crime, Jasmine thought, for such a beauty to be lost to the world. “I can’t get your eyes right,” she confessed.
“They’re fine,” Jasmine countered, “besides what you did with my hair … I mean I see it every day of my life and I’ve never once seen it look as good as you made it look.”
Alejandra raised her chin in acknowledgement, seemingly accepting the compliment. “Curls like yours,” she relaxed a bit, “makes it easy to draw beautiful.”
“Oh please,” she waved a hand with an expert nonchalance, “did your father give you that silver tongue?” Shit.
Alejandra pressed her lips together and said nothing. After a tense moment she flicked her gaze to the binder now on the edge of her bed, pointing a finger, “Can I see?”
“O-of course sweetheart,” stupid, you know better than that. You can’t see the signs your friend is hurting and now you’re dropping F bombs? It’s no wonder that you froze up. Jasmine crawled over and grabbed the music binder. She opened it, revealing the milk white CD’s with black marker written over them, listing the band name, album and genre.
The two talked and listened to music for a good while, talking about school troubles and making mistakes at the hospital, about first kisses and how stupid boys could be. The text message noise dinged in Jasmine’s slacks.
Alejandra smirked, “I know you’ve got a boyfriend,” she pursued, “you always make that face,” she said excitedly, pointing her black painted fingernail at Jasmine, “yeah! That face, that exact one. You always do that when you think it’s from your boyfriend.”
“Oh I do not; you’re jus
t seeing what you want to see.”
Alejandra screwed up her face, furrowing her brows, “You can’t lie to me, you know this. You still try.” Good point …
Jasmine let out a sigh, smooth as smoke. “Yes,” she bitterly admitted, “I’m … basically with this guy, the guy from before. He makes me feel … well, feelings.”
“The Maricón that ditched you? He’s beneath you.” Yeah he was, Jasmine’s ears caught the light drizzle of rain pattering.
“Oh no,” she started, “not the tattooed one. And I’ll let that slip because it’s true. The biker dude,” Jasmine revved the handles of her invisible steel steed.
Realization spread along the lines of Alejandra’s face, “So you got his number then?”
“Well, not really. I mean I have one of his burners.”
“You need to get it,” she insisted, “you want me to steal him from you?”
Blood rushed immediately to Jasmine’s face, “Alejandra, he—his age is so …”
“If he’s as great as you were telling me before, you need to go after him,” she hounded, looking deep into Jasmine’s eyes. “You were so sad,” she said, “and now you are happy again, don’t let that go away.”
Jasmine nodded. Maybe she had a point, love was a two way street – she couldn’t expect Luke to carry all of the weight. “Mimi told me something, you know, before I came inside.”
Alejandra’s eyes lowered and her mood darkened.
“Guess I don’t need to say anything,” Jasmine pointed out. “You still have some paint on your hands; you know running with those boys is a bad idea.”
“Tch,” Alejandra crossed her arms over one another, her dark ponytail whipping to face Jasmine. “I’m sure you don’t have room to talk. Difference is there when you’re with that man.”
The hypocrisy of the situation hadn’t actually occurred to Jasmine until it was pointed out, she couldn’t exactly deny it, so she went with an equally bad line of thought.
Jasmine flicked her tongue across her dry lips. “Well, I’m older than you, Alejandra – I’ve made plenty of mistakes. I have experience with these kind of people,” it was a partial truth, she did mess around with a few bad boys who rode motorcycles – but they were wannabes and not actually a part of anything. They had played their part in her rebellious fantasies.
Revved Up Soul: A MC Romance Page 10
